


Misplaced Evidence

by boccardo_syllogism



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Cookies, F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Pining, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boccardo_syllogism/pseuds/boccardo_syllogism
Summary: When working a case, there will always be pieces of evidence that don't quite fit with the rest. Sometimes they're red herrings designed to throw the investigators off... and sometimes they're just jumbled odds and ends that have nothing to do with anything. This is a collection of the latter - short drabbles and ficlets that aren't quite long enough to be posted on their own, featuring our favourite lady detective and other Wardlow regulars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"
> 
> Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson's shortest interrogation to date.

Jack stirred slightly. Without even opening his eyes, he could tell it was earlier than he wanted to be awake, and he burrowed his head further into his pillow to ward off further consciousness.

The pillow made a disgruntled sound. He grunted back.

A moment later, it occurred to him that his bed did not usually talk.

Come to think of it, he _was_ rather warmer than was typical of his drafty house in the dead of winter. Jack lifted his head to discover a very familiar body draped across his own - one he loved, had kissed every inch of, and most certainly had not expected to find anywhere near his house tonight, let alone on top of him.

“Miss Fisher?”

She groaned, shoving blearily at his face. “Shh. Back to sleep.”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Phryne cracked a single eye open. “No.”

 _Well,_ Jack thought. _Fair enough._ And he pulled the blankets tighter around them, letting her manhandle him into an agreeable position, and drifted back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an anonymous tumblr prompt: "Marry me?"
> 
> Lovers do like to be beside the seaside. Sometimes corpses do too.

“Sir, I’ve got information on that Duffields Road address you wanted me to look into.”

“Excellent, Collins,” Jack said, sagging back in his desk chair in relief. This case was utterly maddening - at every turn, he kept running into unexpected obstacles, and it didn’t help in the slightest that Miss Fisher seemed determined to worm her way into the case. Still, she’d found this particular lead, and when young women were disappearing, he wasn’t churlish enough to refuse the help. “Where is it?”

“Near Torquay, sir. The whole street is owned by Tender Heart Honeymoon Cottages, but the address you gave me is the... er... Temple of Venus cottage.”

Jack exhaled. Finally, a lead that might actually lead somewhere. “Thank you, C-”

“You said Torquay?” Miss Fisher interrupted, not paying the slightest attention. “My client mentioned his cousin had recently visited that area on holiday.”

“Right,” Jack said. “I think it’s time we had a chat with the proprietors of these cottages.” He dismissed Collins with a nod.

“Oh, you won’t get anywhere with that, Jack. A police presence? Those places are designed so the inhabitants can utterly succumb to sin and vice, with no one the wiser.” Her eyes trailed down his body, shameless in their appreciation, and Jack felt himself growing hot under the collar. “No, I think we’ll need a different approach. No one will think twice of talking to another couple, and I can be _very_ charming.”

It suddenly dawned on him what she was suggesting. “Miss Fisher...”

“Of course, I’ll need a husband.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, resting a hand against his heart. “Well, Jack? Will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actually a Duffields Road in Torquay - thank you, Google Maps - but I have no idea if it existed in the 1920s, and the ~~dens of iniquity and fornication~~ honeymoon cottages are entirely my own invention. [I sincerely hope any real ones come up with a less saccharine name!]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @bethanyactually's prompt: "Something illuminated in the darkness."
> 
> Lights will guide you home... but not always.

He solved a case today.

That’s not unusual, in and of itself - Jack is an excellent detective with the record to prove it. Nearly twenty years on the force has seen him close the files on everything from an irritated granny who’d stolen her neighbour’s teapot to a massive cocaine ring with tendrils that spanned all of Australia and no doubt a fair few other countries as well. Then there’s the never-ending stream of belligerent drunks and greasy bookies and all the other generally benign miscreants that populate the city. Those he can usually delegate to his constables, but every file still crosses his desk. Jack’s at the point where he could do most of the paperwork in his sleep, but it still takes time, which is why he’s walking home at nearly midnight, so tired that he’s mostly trusting his feet to know where to go.

The gate. Jack comes to a stop.

The house in front of him is dark, as perhaps should be expected given the lateness of the hour. Neat lines of hedges, dyed black by the night, provide a respectable amount of privacy, and the path to the front door is one he’s walked countless times.

But it’s not his house. Jack’s feet have led him to Wardlow.

He solved a case today - the first one since Miss Fisher disappeared into the horizon with her father in tow. He’d worked late into the night on paperwork that really could have waited til tomorrow, not wanting to go home to an empty house and nightmares of a tiny plane crashing into the ocean. And despite his best efforts, she still preoccupies his subconscious mind even when he forces himself to focus on other things.

He’s spent countless nights just up those steps. Discussing cases, yes, but also just _talking_ with her. Trading stories of wayward childhoods and the shenanigans they’d once plotted. Debating current events, stepping fluidly from politics to religion to law and back again like a dance they already knew by heart. Playing hotly-contested games of draughts while hiding his amusement at her blatant attempts at flirtatious distraction.

Jack misses her with an ache that’s holding him together more than his bones are, some days.

It’s awful to see Wardlow like this, all quiet. The Collinses and Mr. Butler are still there, of course, but none of them are prone to late hours the way she had been, and the light that was usually left on for her is dark. He knows it’s ridiculous, but it almost seems ...desolate, without the unbelievable vitality she carries around her with everything she does.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the windows blazing with light, and Miss Fisher herself waiting there for him with a sultry smile that promised the world and a genuine happiness to see him in her eyes that said so much more. _You’re late, Jack,_ she would chide him, eyes twinkling, but she’d pull him into the parlour to sit with her nonetheless. Far too close for propriety, of course. Not that he minds in the slightest.

Jack opens his eyes.

At this hour, the walk to his house in Richmond is utterly silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detectives aren't the only ones with a pair of eyes in their head, you know.

“You’re wasting your time, y’know,” Clarence Ball said.

Jack - no, _Archie_ \- looked up in surprise. They’d been sitting in relative silence, a particularly lengthy musical interlude playing before he was due to read the news.

“That Fisher woman you can’t keep your eyes off of. You’re wasting your time. Beautiful, sure, but she’s richer than Croesus and that kind of toff wouldn’t give the likes of us the time of day.”

“Most toffs aren’t detectives, lady or otherwise,” Jack pointed out, trying to maintain Archie Jones’ aloof composure. “I reckon I could persuade her to investigate something a little more interesting than missing jewelry.”

Ball just snorted. “Sure, Casanova. Your funeral.”

The room fell silent once more.

It made sense, Jack told himself guiltily. It would allow him to interact with Miss Fisher more frequently without raising undue suspicion if the rest of 3JH thought Archie Jones had his sights set on her boudoir. She did have a remarkable ability to captivate what sometimes seemed like every man she met, after all, and a bit of human element could only strengthen his undercover identity. Pragmatism demanded that he take advantage of Ball’s assumption.

And, well. The man may have been up to his neck in suspicious dealings, but loath as Jack was to admit it, his assumption was ...not entirely incorrect.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, you can find me on tumblr at [preux-chevalier!](preux-chevalier.tumblr.com) My ask box is always open for prompts.


End file.
